Drinking Buddies
by Daring Dear
Summary: Denmark and Northern Ireland get together to swap relationship problems. -. Implied DenIce & WalesNorth .-


Northern Ireland frowned as he was sent straight to voicemail for the fifteenth time that night.

_"Hello, you've reached the inbox of...Cymru...please leave your message at the-"_

Scowling, he threw his cellphone on the bed and leapt to his feet, pacing angrily across the floor. Unable to take the silence for long, and needing to hear a voice that wasn't recorded, he snatched his phone of the comforter and hit four on speed-dial. It rang three times before a familiarly accented voice answered.

"...the usual bar, then?"

"Table in the corner?" North asked.

There was a pause, and he knew Denmark was nodding on the other end of the line, "See ya in ten."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he pulled his jacket off the coat hanger in the hallway and stepped out the door. The air was cool, but it wasn't freezing. The sky was dull and gray, clouds hanging low and threatening to release a hazy downpour at any moment. North tugged his hoodie over his head and kept walking, un-bothered by the usual melancholy weather. It suited his mood just fine, really. Sighing, he looked up to find he had already reached the pub. Strange, he swore he'd only been walking for a second or so. Was he really that distracted? Brushing it off, he pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the bar. It was dark, and the place was well-used and beaten up. An unnamed group filled the pub with loud drinking songs, the singer slurring his words. Smoke hung thick in the air, giving his vision a foggy edge. Far in the back corner of the building, Denmark already sat, one beer in his hand and another resting on the table. He nodded in greeting as he slid into his chair, picking up the beer and taking a long swig.

The Dane, already half-way through his own drink, started the conversation, "Feelin' lonely, Northie?"

North swallowed his mouthful of liquor, setting the glass down with a clung. He disregarded the slightly annoying nickname, and sighed, "…he's been gone a lot lately. He spends more time working than he does with me. It starts getting to you, spending all your time talking like a five year old to your kids, without an adult capable of holding a proper conversation."

Denmark nodded slowly, taking another swig before he spoke, "Just tell him to forget his work and spend some time with you, or you'll knee him in the 'throne room.'"

North snorted in slight amusement. Denmark had been kneed enough times to know just how convincing a well placed strike could be. Usually by Iceland. Speaking of which…

"How about you? You in trouble with Iceland again?" he prompted, noticing the Dane was less energetic than usual.

"When am I not in trouble with Iceland? He hates me." Denmark sighed heavily, killing his drink and motioning at the waitress.

North finished his beer off and set it down, watching as the glasses were immediately whisked away and soon replaced with new ones.

"He doesn't hate you. If he hated you, he wouldn't spend so much time with you."

"I just wish he would be less like Norge." Denmark complained.

North nodded at the old complaint, it was one he was used to. "He's not as emotionless as Norway. What are you fighting about this time?"

"He kneed me in the _throne room_!" Denmark scowled, flinching slightly and instinctively cupping himself.

"…and what did you do to piss him off?" North asked, arching an eyebrow. He didn't believe for an instant Denmark was innocent in the matter.

Shifting uncomfortably, the blonde chugged a good portion of his beer before he answered, "…well…I may have pinned him to the floor…"

North rolled his eyes. "You were drinking again, weren't you? You know he hates when you do that."

"He hates me, period." Denmark said sullenly, "I drink with you all the time."

"That's different. We're in a bar, and we don't usually really get drunk. He doesn't hate you. If he did, he wouldn't care less if you were drinking. He gets mad because it's bad for you. Like when I used to fight with Scotland about his smoking." North explained slowly, pausing a few times to drink.

"…I guess." Denmark said, frowning like he always did when forced to thing about emotional things, "…so. Wales really getting you down?"

North accepted the change of topic, sighing again, "Yeah, he is. His work just seems to mean more to him than me, you know? We only spend a few hours together at night, and it's always…rushed, you know? He's always tired."

"Well, send the kids off to be babysat, buy a sexy little outfit, surprise him before he goes to work, and demand he fuck you."

Northern Ireland, who had been drinking again, choked on his beer as a nearby group of young girls burst into rather high-pitched giggles. Wiping at his face with his sleeve, he glared at the Dane, "Shut the fuck up."

Denmark laughed too loudly, and North scowled, "…I see your usual idiotic self is back."

"You mean my _awesome _self." Denmark corrected, killing his beer in one shot.

Not to be outdone, North drank his beer in one long swig and stood up, "I guess we're done tonight."

Denmark smirked, mischief flashing in his eyes. North took a step back, eyeing him cautiously, "…what are you thinking?"

"Oh…just that I ought to lend you my awesome sense of style to pick out that sexy little outfit~"

Before North could react, he was being roughly thrown over the large man's shoulder. Shrieking in a rather undignified way, he beat on the Dane's back with his fists.

"An Danmhairg!" he snapped, the word coming out in Irish, "Put me down you fecking eejit!"

Denmark made a tsking noise as he carried his friend out of the pub, "Now, that wasn't very nice, Nordirland~"

"I HOPE ICELAND FUCKING KILLS YOU!"

The door slammed shut, and all of the regulars rolled their eyes, if they bothered to react at all. This sort of thing was a normal occurrence here, after all. All of the newcomers turned back to their beers or their dance partners after a few moments, except a group of giggling girls who kept shooting glances at the now empty table, muttering excitedly among themselves in a way that would have had America asking, "Who set the fangirls loose?"

* * *

><p>Don't own Hetalia or Denmark.<p>

...because of an RP I did. LOVE YA, SLO, MY HUBBY.

Denmark and Northern Ireland are drinking buddies. Total headcanon now. -Nodnod.-


End file.
